


SPF 55

by lemonypond



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post academy pre Sci-Ops, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonypond/pseuds/lemonypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FitzSimmons go on vacation together after finishing at the Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SPF 55

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CRIMSONBRUXA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRIMSONBRUXA/gifts).



> For Tiff, my beatutiful, talented, brilliant, powerful musk ox. Happy birthday!

“Fitz, would you hurry up?” Simmons yelled, her backpack and purse slipping off her shoulder as she struggled to balance her carryon on top of her rather larger suitcase.  She had once again over packed for a trip, and was struggling to get her headphones untangled and out of her jeans pocket. 

Over at the automated ticket counter Fitz took a deep breath through his nose as he pursed his lips, biting the inside of his lip so that he didn’t lose his temper.  She always stressed about transportation and today was no exception. She repacked  _his_  bag at 4am this morning while he was still sleeping. Today they were going on an SHIELD mandated “vacation” before they began their first assignment at Sci-Ops. He didn’t want to go; he didn’t understand why they couldn’t just get straight to work. He had six different prototypes in the works and he really wanted to get started in his own lab so that he did not lose momentum. But because their S.O. told them they had no choice in the matter Fitz had insisted that they go someplace tropical; Simmons had wanted to go to home to meet his mum, but Fitz was adamant about sand beneath his toes and a mojito in his hand. Simmons pointed out his need for SPF 55 sunscreen and rather than devolve into a shouting match with his best friend they played roshambo for it; and he had considered it a great victory and a huge relief when he played scissors.  

His inevitable sunburn would be worth it to avoid the awkwardness of explaining Simmons to his mum.  

“FITZ! Let’s move!” she shouted again ,and as she did she dropped her purse, backpack, and carry on onto the floor, their contents flying everywhere as her ipod hung by the headphones from the front pocket of her jeans. In the blink of an eye she went from frustration and annoyance to near tears in panic. 

“Oh shit, Jemma! Lemme help!” he snapped out of his daze and quickly stuffed his ticket into his jacket pocket as he scrambled to help pick up her belongings. Among the books, passports, and papers he expected to pick up (Fitz was not the only one who refused to leave his work at home) he happened upon a string bikini. Images of Jemma Simmons wearing it suddenly flashed in his mind. It must have been in her carry-on bag. It was a blue and green tartan plaid and Fitz couldn’t understand how it was designed to cover anything; it was about as big as a napkin.  Then more images of it barely covering bits of Jemma flashed in his mind and he felt sweat forming at his temples and various other locations. 

He now suddenly wished they were headed to the arctic; or that Sci-Ops had been located on a beach. He was not entirely sure which.  

He gathered up the pile of papers that slid away from their grasp as annoyed and frustrated travelers walked past them, the breeze they kicked up spreading the papers farther away on the crowded airport floor. He vaguely sensed some words coming out of his mouth, but later on the plane he would not be able to recall them.  

“Oh bugger!” Simmons mumbled under her breath before quickly snatching the bikini out of his hands and stuffing it back in her bag. Her face had turned three shades of red in the amount of time it took for her to realize Fitz had picked up her swimsuit and now she could barely look him in the face. She unintentionally cringed when Fitz quickly turned away to pick up the rest of the papers before they blew away. She could not understand why he had insisted on a tropical vacation, and it frustrated her even more now. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that Fitz would be seeing her in a bikini. In fact she had only packed it as an afterthought. Nor had she thought about the fact that they would be slathering SPF 55 sunscreen on each other. With their bare hands. On their bare skin.  _This would not have happened if we were headed across the Atlantic to his mum’s_ , she thought to herself, grabbing at the highlighters and dodging suitcase wheels. Jemma Simmons was quickly losing her cool and wishing she had packed a wetsuit instead.   

She vowed to never play paper again; only scissors.  

“Ugh! I’m so stupid! Thanks Fitz.” She said as she stood up, cramming a handful of highlighters back into her carry on. She couldn’t look him in the eye as he handed her back the last stack of papers.  

He couldn’t look her in the eyes either. His eyes seemed to only want to stare a few degrees south of her eyes, and his mouth felt as if it were coated in cotton gauze.  She was wearing a very casual camisole that hugged her curves with a light, opened cardigan. He suddenly found his shoelaces fascinating. “So our flight doesn’t depart until…”  

“-1:15.” 

“And right now it is..”  

“10:45 in the morning,” Simmons said checking her watch.  She hoisted her overpacked backpack onto her shoulders once more. 

Fitz swallowed and finally managed to look up towards his partner’s eyes. “Drink?” 

“GOD YES.”    _Ah I said that a bit loud,_ she thought.

“First round’s on me,” they said in unison.  

“Roshambo for it?” Simmons asked, eyebrows arched and chin raised. 

Fitz quickly shook his head. “How about we flip a coin instead?”  

“Much better idea,” Simmons said; her shoulders finally relaxing under the weight of her backpack.  

Fitz picked his duffel bag and started to head off towards the security line and ultimately the first bar he could find. He wanted to run but that would look suspicious and the queue for security was only fifteen feet away. “WAIT!” he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.  

“What is it?” Simmons asked almost bumping into him as he stopped.  

“You still need to check your bag. And get your ticket.”  

“Right,” she said sheepishly, nodding. “I’ll just…go check my bag.” She then rolled her caravan of luggage over to the closest kiosk. She knew she could have left her carry-on with Fitz but the uncomfortable look on his face matched hers and she wanted to avoid any discussion of the carry-on and its contents for as long as possible. 

“One week in Hawaii with Jemma Simmons in a string… _tartan…_ bikini. I don't know what I did to deserve this but I'll do it a thousand times over,” he muttered to himself.  

“What’s that, Fitz?” Simmons said, pulling her credit card out of the kiosk, turning her head back towards him.  

“Hmm? Oh. I said I hope you packed enough sunscreen. We’re not exactly blessed with large amounts of melanin,” he said with a simple smile. 

She stuffed her ticket into her purse. “Ahh,” she replied as they walked towards the security line. She saw the long line in front of them and looked nervously towards Fitz. “Yes, I packed three bottles of SPF 55. We are from England after all. We don’t exactly do well in the sun. I mean I get freckles all over my should-”  

“-So did you bring your biki- your banana tree research?”  Fitz interrupted her before she could continue talking about her anatomy. 

“Of course! That’s the only reason I conceded to go to Hawaii instead of your mum’s. You know I really want to meet her Fitz. I want to meet the woman who made you so special, and I want to see pictures of you when you were small. And see you in a kilt and... ” 

Fitz looked straight ahead while he nodded in acknowledgement without really listening. “Good. Good.” They may have been in a bustling airport but the sounds around him echoed in his ears cancelling everything out. All he heard was “mum…special…small..” as if he were underwater. 

Simmons balanced her weight from foot to foot as they slowly crept forward in line. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying and she was even less sure that he was listening. 

“Longest line ever,” Simmons mumbled.  

“Agreed.”  

“So Matt Smith was pretty great in _The Pandorica Opens_.” 

“Yeah totally. Yup. That speech was great.” He tugged at his collar nervously with his free hand.

The silence returned as they shuffled forward in line. Jemma had hoped talking about Doctor Who would make the wait in line go faster, but he didn’t take the bait. So they walked together in silence, occasionally bumping shoulders and smiling awkwardly. Finally they got through the screening line. They sat next to each other on a bench to put their shoes back on.  

“Bar?” 

“Bar.”  

Five rounds of drinks later, they boarded the plane for Hawaii arm in arm, laughing into each other’s shoulders. It was Jemma that made the joke about getting lei’d as they boarded the plane and Fitz held onto her tighter so that he didn’t fall down from the fit of laughter taking over his body. The flight attendants assumed they were newlyweds and congratulated them on their honeymoon, but they didn’t hear them over their giggles. They began speaking in hushed tones about their latest project as they took their seats in first class. After drinks seven and eight, they fell asleep; Fitz’s head on Simmons's shoulder and their hands intertwined on the arm rest. 

When they returned a week later, neither commented on their sunburns, new freckles, or the massive hangover from which it took three days to recover. All they could remember was the laughter, the ocean, and the sunscreen; and for the time being, they were content with only that.  They were partners and that was enough.

 


End file.
